On Stranger Tides
by lovelynoise
Summary: On Stranger Tides, remake. That story deserves another chance. More focus on Philip and Syrena. And promise that female-pirate-who-shall-remain-unnamed won't get anywhere near this story. Captain Jack Sparrow shall not remain solo for long, though...
1. Philip

A young man was standing at the fore of a ship. His hair wet of the salty breeze, his cheeks red from the merciless sun, he couldn't care less about it. His eyes were searching for something far beyond the horizon.

The other men at the ship – hardworking sailors and merchandisers – used to laugh at him when he talked about it. That somewhere, on a voyage only the dead could sail, was a kingdom far greater than anything built by mortal hands. And there, as well, was judgment. Those who had lived a good, decent life would be rewarded. And those whose hearts were damaged and without regret … they would find their penalty.

Philip didn't wish for anyone to meet that destiny, and therefore, he would make sure as few as possible did.

The sailors weren't very grateful though. They didn't believe in God. Out here, they believed to be at the hands of the ocean spirits.

Something shook the ship and Philip almost lost his balance.

"What was that?" he asked a man who'd been scrubbing the deck. "Did we hit ground?"

The man hmph:ed and shook his head. "No. This far out, there's no land to be seen for days."

Another quiver took hold of the ship, this time leaving half of the men laying down. It was like an earthquake, but out at sea.

The bravest men rushed to the reeling and looked down for the cause of the trembling.

A second later, it was as if they were never there. The sea had swallowed them, before anyone had had time to react.

The captain started shouting orders.

"Loose all the sails! Load the cannons! Everyone at their post!"

The men obeyed. At first. But then there was a third quake. The ship tilted like the laws of gravity no longer applied. The captain's orders were lost in the screaming and shouting. Philip grabbed a tight hold of the mast and managed to withstand. Many weren't that lucky. Men were falling off, like snowflakes from a wintery sky.

"What's happening?" shouted Philip.

The old man next to him, clinging to the mast with knuckled hands, looked at him.

"You best start praying to this god of yours, for he is the only one who can save us now."

Another rumble. The man almost lost his grip, but Philip got a hold of the old one's arm.

The sun was still shining. The sky still as blue. But around them there seemed to be a full storm. The water lived, the waves were after them, had them captured and there was no way out.

A new quake. The old man was ripped out of Philip's hand and thrown into the waters. His shriek echoed long after he disappeared under the surface.

In his head, Philip was screaming his prayers, but God didn't seem to be listening.

The shakes were getting more frequent now, and for every time, stronger. Philip felt himself slipping. The wet wood was impossible to get a hold of. A wave whipped his face, filled his throat with salty water and panic. He lost his grip. He fell.

…

When he regained consciousness, he was in the water, as was the rest of the crew. They were all trying to stay afloat, but surprisingly few knew how to swim. The ship lay in pieces around them, sinking, pulling men under with it as the water took it for its own.

A woman was clinging to a piece of wood with one arm, the other one hung lifeless down her side. Panic was in her eyes. He tried to shout to her but no words could be heard. So he swam against her.

"Don't worry", he said, though he wasn't sure if she could hear him. "Everything will be fine." He reached her just in time to catch her when she lost her hold. She was splashing, panicking, pulling him down.

"Hold still!" he yelled. "Hold still or we will both drown!"

He caught the eyes of a sailor not far from them. His face was beyond sanity, beyond salvation.

"Don't despair!" Philip screamed. "God will save us!"

The man raised an arm. Something of silver shined in his hand.

"There is no god!" he roared. "This is the work of the devil!" He plunged the knife towards Philip.

For a moment, Philip stopped breathing. He didn't dare to feel if he was hurt, if he was still alive. But soon he realized he was unharmed. He opened his eyes.

Blood was everywhere around him, and every second it coloured the water darker and darker. The woman no longer tried to fight her way out of his arms. Through her chest, through her heart, was the dagger that had drained all of her life.

Philip screamed. But though he tried to save her, tried to stop the blood, he knew it was too late.

As she slipped out of his hands her leg gently caressed his arm. Only, it wasn't a leg. And where there should have been skin, there were scales.

Then, he was pulled under.


	2. Captain Jack Sparrow

"Now, isn't there something wrong with this picture?" The two men looked at each other, then at the small water brook polluted with feces and god-knew-what shooting out from a hole in the ground.

"You're the captain", said the shorter – and considerably wider – of the two.

"Actually, you have to have a ship to be a captain", said Jack Sparrow, "and that was more of a rowboat. But thanks."

"Well, anyway, you're the one who lead the way to this godforsaken place", said Gibbs.

"I only followed my compass. And according to it, this is the Fountain of Youth." Jack stared at the brook. He smashed a mosquito on his eyelid.

"Not any youth that I want to experience. You're going to drink that?" Gibbs asked.

Jack fiddled with the compass between his fingers. "I have a feeling it will taste nothing like rum. But there has to be something here that was worth the while." He turned around on the spot to look at the surroundings. Palm trees, a few dead animals (probably after drinking from the spring), a very sweaty Gibbs. Jack made another 360 spin. No, nothing that seemed to fulfill his every heart's desire.

"Now what?" asked Gibbs.

"Let's return to the ship." Jack started walking.

"Rowboat, you mean." Gibbs followed.

"Who's the captain here?" Jack asked. "I am, savvy? And I say it's a ship. At least, it's the closest thing we've got for now."

Gibbs raised his hands. "Whatever you say, Captain."

Jack put the compass back into one of his many pockets (where he undoubtedly would have a very hard time finding it later). It should be working just fine, but still, it kept showing them to places not even remotely close to the Fountain. Sure, they'd found treasures, rum, women … but he could find all those things even without the compass. After all, he _was _Captain Jack Sparrow. But still, he thought about giving Tia Dalma a visit, asking her to take a look at it – until he realized that would probably include a very long stay at the bottom of the ocean. He liked the sea, but not that much.

His compass had been acting all weird ever since that whole incident with Elizabeth. He didn't really understand it, but was quite sure that he didn't want to, either. She was the kind of girl that got married, had children (horrible thought), settled down, killed a pirate or two. But still, nothing for him. He liked _women, _plural. Sure, he'd given it a thought to go visit her, especially now that she was alone. She was bound to be lonely, with Will out of the picture … but no. Not even Jack could do that. Will was one of the few he actually considered being his friend. Curse it. Why had he ever have to end up in Port Royal?

No. He just wanted to find this fountain so he could get his mind on other things.

"Um", Gibbs interrupted his thoughts. "Is it just me and my flask, or did that rowboat just get a whole lot bigger?"

A wide grin spread across Jack's face and he gave his apologizes to his compass. Turned out it had known what it was doing, after all.

There she was. After all this time. Just waiting for him, rolling on the soft waves. The Pearl. And seemingly inhabited, as well. How fitting.

"Gibbs, hurry up. We have a ship to catch."


End file.
